First Strike! (eddy styx)

First Strike

roaming the alleys
I spied a young man
in his early twenties
carrying gasoline.
noticing the sloshing of the can,
his furtiveness dragged me after him.
keeping to the shadows,
I trailed at a distance,
moving when he moved.
He was soon joined
by a red tabby cat,
who wound about his legs
begging for attention.
I identify with cats
going about their
own prowling business.
Watching from the shadows
horror gripped my heart.
Pouring gas on the cat,
he nimbly lit a match,
but the cat fled before
the lit match could land.
Instinctively I jumped,
my bare fist landing on jaw;
he crumpled to the cement.
Dousing him with the
remains of liquid in the can,
I awaited his return
to the conscious world.
When I saw him awaken
his eyes full of terror,
I dropped a match,
springing back
out of harms way,
as his body caught fire
in a violent blaze;
He lit up the night sky,
casting his flailing,
ghastly shadow on the sheds.
The next day’s paper
told of a suspected arson who died
accidentally by his own hand.
A virgin no longer,
first kill has been made
for defense of a cat
I am, somehow, unsatisfied,
For I am a cold-hearted killer
not this thing of unbridled passion.